The Mayor of Grassington....

.....a story more James Herriott than Thomas Hardy that came to an end on 2 November when Uncle Wilf died at the ripe old age of 97.

97 chapters is a long book and more than 40 had been written and told before my first memories of him. At that time he owned the grocer's shop in the main street in Grassington in the Yorkshire Dales and soon afterwards he bought the next door premises (see picture) to expand his emporium.

Wilf also seemed to have a somewhat old fashioned view of the role of women. His Tuesdays and Wednesdays were a delightful trip to the further part of the Dale to take and deliver grocery orders and pass the time of day with farmers, campers and customers : whilst his wife and the other shop helper kept the shop going during its opening hours.

1966 and England won the world cup and I watched the match at his house. He had sold the shop by then and moved to Skipton. Bertha his wife was my mother's sister and they both came to see me before I went off to Cambridge in 1970. But sadly I was out at the time and tragically Bertha collapsed and died at our flat in Stacksteads in Lancashire.

Wilf always had a soft spot for Teapot. I remember him decorating the kitchen in the house we rented when we were first married. So very Wilf. It was all done in a flash as if he had paint brushes in both hands.

Wilf married again and is the only man I know who managed 2 silver weddings. Ada was quite different to Bertha but she was soon part of the family. Matt and Alan were always remembered at Christmas and they both had great affection for him.

When they moved to the almshouses at Linton he set up a workshop of which Heath Robinson would have been proud. It was a place of wonder especially for Curly Al. He made bird tables for charity and his band saw was a seriously scary piece of machinery.

Ada had an electric scooter because she could not walk very well. But it was Wilf who used it more then she. They moved back to Grassington and Ada dies in 2006. Wilf continued to drive the scooter even though his eyesight began to fail and not just around the village.

Teapot and I went to his funeral this last Wednesday. There may not be any more chapters to be written but I am sure we will keep going back to read the ones we have. And we will be thankful for them.